


Apple

by Niler



Category: OneD
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-26
Updated: 2016-01-26
Packaged: 2018-05-16 10:21:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5824831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Niler/pseuds/Niler





	Apple

**Author's Note:**

  * For [larrythalegend](https://archiveofourown.org/users/larrythalegend/gifts).



 

Apple

 

 

 

It’s a memory, a vivid one.

He’s 6 and it’s Gemma’s birthday.

There are streamers and balloons and the remnants of cake, salmon sandwiches, ice-cream, angel delight.

There are a lot of adults there, most of whom he knows and likes.

But they’re laughing.

Laughing – at him.

“Ah, bless. You can’t blame him, poor little poppet.” A pair of perfumed arms around him, squeezing him tight, and he knows that’s supposed to make him feel better.

It doesn’t.

They’re laughing; it’s a joke and they think it’s funny.

Gemma’s the worst because she should be on his side and because his offence was apparently against her.

As his big sister she should be saying: ‘oh don’t be stupid, it doesn’t matter; Harry didn’t mean it and anyway I don’t mind.”

But she isn’t saying any of that; she’s not laughing, she’s looking at him with that cross expression on her face he’s learned to absolutely hate.

“I didn’t need to know; why did you have to say? Now it’s ruined. You’re hopeless, you can never keep a secret!” and off she stomps with her stupid party frock and those silly white shoes with the bow on the front and the little heel that she thinks makes her look like mummy.

Harry thinks she looks like Little Bo Peep, but is wise enough not to say it out loud.

But she’s made him cry and now he feels very stupid because it’s a party and you don’t cry at parties - everyone knows that.

His mum comes over and wraps him up in her arms, kissing his hair the way he loves.

“Don’t cry, sweetheart, Gems didn’t mean it. She’s just over-tired and full. It’s okay, you’ll see.”

“I _can_ keep a secret,” he protests, looking up at her for confirmation.

She nods and kisses him again, but he can see in her face that she doesn’t think this is true, that she will never give him the confirmation he needs and it’s then, he remembers and recognises now, that he made that silent vow – to be the best, the very best _ever_ at keeping secrets.

No, no-one is ever, ever going to find out prematurely that they’ve got a shiny red bike for their birthday. That is an absolute promise!

 

**

 

Jeff knows, of course, he has something up his sleeve, says he has a ‘tell’.

Yeah, whatever.

Couldn’t be because it’s his 30th and he _expects_ to have a celebration.

He sends all day interrogating Harry, hoping to trip him up.

He tries sweet talk – effective, pleasurable, but...

He tries trickery – Harry’s on guard and will remain so until after the event.

He tries asking Cameron – Harry didn’t tell Cameron.

As a final resort he tries sexual blandishments.

“Oh so do I tell you before or _after_ you blow me?”

Jeff raises his head, mouth wet and alluring. “Uh?”

“If the execs could see and hear you now, they definitely wouldn’t trust their artists in your hands.”

“Fuck you!” He gives a sharp twist of his left hand.

Harry would rather not have given him the satisfaction of yelping, but he has no idea how any man could stay silent when that happens. “So, no blowjob then.”

“Tell me.”

“Or...?”

“Or, you don’t get this...”

Harry closes his eyes the better to savour the heat of Jeff’s mouth on his skin. It would be so easy to give in, but that 6 year old kid definitely wouldn’t understand this weakness, the weakness he has for this man. God, he’s had this a hundred times before, so he really should be able – more than able – to say ‘no’.

“Jeff.” He wants to say ‘don’t, don’t go any further because I’m not telling’, but it’s a struggle.

And Jeff’s got the hands involved now - playing dirty - and Harry has to force himself to make that a deal breaker.

Placing a firm hand on Jeff’s head he pushes him backwards, hoping to god he won’t moan and make Jeff even more smug than...God he is so _smug_! Definitely a deal breaker. “Not telling, so you can save _that_ for some other d-“

“Dude?”

“Div.”

“So you admit that you’re a div.”

Harry snorts because when Jeff says things in what he believes is a British accent he can’t help but melt. It’s funny and endearing – a quite deadly combination.

Well, Jeff in a nutshell, really.

“Yeah I’m a div, cos who the fuck would say no to that?” He runs a slow finger across Jeff’s bottom lip, biting his own lip when Jeff open his mouth and takes it in. “Not helping.”

Jeff sucks Harry’s finger all the way in. “No? How can I help?”

“You can’t.”

“Bet I could.”

“No, cos that would mean you becoming someone else entirely.  Being _you_ is just not fucking helping at all.”

“So, let me be me then.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you? Why is it so hard to sit still for a bloody surprise?”

“Because I fucking hate surprises” he shouts, matching Harry’s tone.

They stare into each other’s faces for a second before simultaneously collapsing in fits of laughter.

 

**

“The Hair, man.”

“Oh not this again. It’s staying. You know you bloody like it.”

“I like it, I’m just not sure about you single-handedly bringing back the eigh-tees.”

“That’s how it’s pronounced - eigh tees.”

“Hun, okay, if that’s what you think.” He’s got a lock of Harry’s hair twined around his fingers. “You look so European though, it’s crazy.”

“How is that crazy – I _am_ bloody European.”

“I know, but...some guys look American and you...don’t.”

“And that’s a bad thing?”

“Hmm.”

“Fuck off. You ready?”

“Who the fuck is ever ready for a fucking surprise?”

Harry pulls Jeff to him and makes a point of looking in his eyes as he slowly buttons his shirt. “How about you aim to be the first?”

 

**

Jeff wasn’t ready.

There are some dodgy moments, but all in all Harry has to count it as a massive success.

After the prolonged roast (Harry’s still chuckling at the look on Jeff’s face when he sees James coming to the mic – with a laptop for his multimedia presentation) they spend some time separated while Jeff does his duties as the guest of honour.

They keep catching each other’s eye, and at one point, feeling a laser-like heat between his shoulder blades, Harry turns to find Jeff staring at him. He’s so turned on he completely loses it for a minute, zoning out completely, and when he’s called on to contribute to the conversation finds himself having to extemporise in a manner he prays won’t ever be caught on film.

Everybody already thinks they’re going to have steamy birthday sex as it is, so why the fuck is he giving them even more ammunition for their lurid imaginings?

Jeff’s maybe a _little_ tipsy.

Well, perhaps tipsy isn’t quite the right word...  

 

**

It’s definitely not the bathroom, not quite a storage cupboard...

Well, okay, it’s a storage cupboard.

He isn’t exactly astonished at Jeff’s strength – he knows from being around Liam, Zayn even that when it comes to strength size can be very deceiving.

Jeff’s strong. At this point he can’t fathom being with a guy who isn’t strong.

But it’s not the physical strength that’s making him moan right now – it’s the way he’s using it to dominate.

Jeff’s a gentleman in bed.

Out of it, not so much.

Harry always knows what he’s in for if Jeff decides to get frisky in the kitchen, in the hall – in the garden...

And he’s in for it now, alright.

Jeff may think he has no business bringing back the eighties with the length of his hair, but he isn’t objecting now as he uses Harry’s hair as his own personal reins to direct and guide.

And the words he’s using, the low but uninhibited directives he’s giving, the heartfelt praise and compliments, all of it combine with the buzz of alcohol in his veins, the murmur of music, voices laughter close by, the taste of salt on his tongue to make him feel like he’s fucking flying...

They’ve never done this before – not in public with friends and family all round – and Harry has the presence of mind (for a fraction of a second) to wonder if maybe the next time will be at their wedding reception.

That wouldn’t be right, though, would it?

 

**

Jeff’s lying face down on the bed, still fully dressed.

“You okay?”

“Pissed.”

“Oh really? I couldn’t tell.” He sits beside him, runs a cool hand under his shirt, draws a circle on his lower back with his index finger, leans down and kisses the spot. “Did you have a good time?”

“Lie on me.”

“I don’t want you throwing up.” But he’s adjusting his position.

“I’m not that far gone.” He reaches for Harry’s hand. “I’m glad my blowjob promises didn’t make you change your mind.”

“Now, that is something you don’t hear every day.” He arranges himself carefully on top of him. “You sure you’re not gonna throw up?”

“Sure.” He’s still for a moment. “Know something?”

“No, tell me.”

“I love you.”

Harry doesn’t say anything, just kisses the tender skin of his neck, but inside his internal dickhead is saying: ‘so, who is it can’t keep secrets again? Fucking bite me!’


End file.
